Being comfortably housed in his own pleasant home at Taos, Kit Carson made up his mind to treat himself to a more lengthy stay there than he had for some time enjoyed. While he was quietly enjoying the pleasures of home, active operations were transpiring about him, for the neighboring Indians had dug up the tomahawk and buried the calumet, and were holding in defiance the United States forces, which had been stationed in New Mexico to protect its inhabitants. Colonel Beall was at that time commanding officer of the district, and had established his head-quarters at Taos. The colonel, soon after assuming the command, being a resolute man, saw that there was but one way to deal with these Indians, and that was to bring them to a strict account, and make them amenable for their many crimes. This tribe of Apaches has given the government of the United States almost as much trouble as have the Seminoles in Florida, and I hesitate not in saying, that before they are exterminated, which is the only sure plan of making a peace with them, they will have surpassed their red brethren of the swamps of the South in the number and enormity of their crimes. Before New Mexico came under the jurisdiction of the United States, the Apaches, for many years, had committed all kinds of heinous offences against the Mexicans; and, for a period of ten years after that event, these same savages were continually on the war path, notwithstanding military expeditions, one after another, were organized and sent out against them. Their mountain retreats are almost inaccessible to white men, while the Indians, apparently, play about in them like rabbits. The amount of physical endurance and the length of the journeys these red men can make, appear very astonishing to one not accustomed to them. The Apaches, as an Indian race, are not wanting in bravery, the best evidence of which statement is, that nearly all their warriors die in battle. Their country is the healthiest in America. Besides waging war against the whites and Mexicans, they have their differences to settle with their neighboring tribes, with whom they are punctilious in vindicating their national honor. Colonel Beall commenced his operations against these Indians by dispatching a junior officer, backed by a strong force, with orders to pursue, overtake, and chastise them. This expedition started; but, on coming to the mountains, the guides reported that there was too much snow on them for the command to pass through in safety; so the undertaking was given up, and the men were marched back to Taos.
The most famous war chief of the Apaches, during these troubles, was called by the Mexicans Chico Velasques, and his name, for many years, was a terror to the surrounding country. His savage brutality knew no bounds, and he was truly in his element, only when he was tearing the bloody scalp from his half-lifeless victim. He was the sworn enemy of the Americans and Mexicans, and his hunting-knife was rarely clean of human blood, until his cruel life, by the wise decrees of an all-seeing Providence, was suddenly cut short. He fought against his disease (small pox) with that rashness that had been his ruling spirit through life, and thus ingloriously terminated his days. The pride of this man was to strut through the Mexican towns and gloat over his many crimes. To the gazing crowd, he would point out the trophies of his murders, which he never failed to have about him. To his fringed leggins were attached the phalanges (or finger bones) of those victims whom he had killed with his own hands. On the one side, he proclaimed to his auditors, were the fingers of the Mexicans, while on the other, were the same tokens from the Americans; and it gave him great delight, ironically, to dwell upon the latter name. With whip in hand, he struck out right and left when anything displeased him. He met one day more than his match in the person of the famous Mexican hunter, Armador Sanchez, of whom we have previously spoken. The circumstances of this rencounter were as follows: The bold Indian, with but few followers, was on a visit of pleasure to the Mexican town of Culebro. He had agreed to a temporary peace, to suit his convenience and ends; and, taking advantage of it, he made his appearance in the settlements, to lord it over the peaceable inhabitants. After indulging in a little fire-water, his wicked propensities could be controlled no longer, and broke forth in minor cruelties. At last he found himself in the house belonging to Sanchez, who was quietly conversing with his aged father, for whom he had great veneration, and also with his son. The Indian peremptorily demanded that some whisky should be given him. He was informed by Sanchez that he did not keep the article. A second demand was now made, with the threat that if it was not forthcoming immediately, he would whip the person who refused him. This had the effect of bringing Sanchez to his feet, when the following colloquy, in Spanish, between him and the Indian transpired: "Chico Velasques, you have long been accustomed to treat our people almost as you please. You have robbed and murdered us at your will, notwithstanding we have given you no cause thus to act. Had you asked for bread, I would have given it to you, for the door of my house is always open to the friendly red man; but, as for whisky, you can have none from my hands. Raise that whip but once to strike me, and I will dash your brains out with this mass of lead." Suiting his actions to his words, Sanchez drew forth from the pocket of his hunting-shirt a slung shot that weighed nearly four ounces, which he always carried to dispatch his game with when it was in the last agonies of death. With uplifted hand, the Indian hesitated; for, he knew the character of the man who stood before him, as they had hunted together during many moons gone by, on the same mountains and on the same trail. At last, using his own savage dialect, in order that his words could not be understood by others about him, the savage answered the Mexican hunter by saying, "that by chance they might some day meet again;" a threat which fell harmless at the feet of Sanchez. As he took his departure, the chief added, in Spanish, "I will tell these things to my father,[20] Kit Carson," as if further attempting to intimidate the hunter; but Sanchez knew that his own and Carson's opinions were the same in regard to this man; therefore, he smiled at the rascal's knavery. Chico Velasques was followed in his chieftainship by Blanco, who did his utmost to walk in the footsteps of his illustrious predecessor; but, he was not so cunning, and was less successful in his encounters with the Americans and Mexicans, and therefore had not that influence with his tribe which the former possessed. Still, he performed his quantum of mischief, and yet lives to play his part in the great drama of Indian life. An Apache Indian is rather small in stature, but everything about him denotes symmetry and strength. His limbs are almost straight, and their muscles are as hard as iron. The elasticity of his movements, when in the least excited, shows a high degree of physical training. His coal-black eye exhibits an amount of treachery rarely seen elsewhere, proving the truth of the Chinese adage, that "the tongue may deceive, but the eye can never play the rogue."
But to return to the narrative. The commanding officer of the party sent out against these Indians, on arriving again at Taos, reported to Col. Beall that the reason he had returned was because, at the present time, it was impracticable to cross the mountains. That brave and experienced officer replied, "that there was no such word as impracticable in the soldier's vocabulary, and that nothing ought to be impossible for the 1st regiment of United States dragoons to accomplish." Suiting his actions to his words, Col. Beall reorganized the command, took charge of it himself, and employed Kit Carson as his guide. When everything was in proper trim, this expedition set out, and after surmounting many obstacles and privations, finally accomplished the feat of crossing the snow-clad mountains, and after a long and fruitless search for the Indians, the men were obliged to turn about, because their stock of provisions was running low. As the command emerged through the "Sangre de Christo Pass," on their return route, they came suddenly into view of a village of Apaches. As soon as the Indians were discovered the charge was sounded, but the animals of the dragoons were too much jaded to obey the summons with the celerity wished for by their riders; the result was that, besides a considerable amount of plunder, only two persons were taken, but they, fortunately, proved to be no less than two important chiefs. In order to impress these Indians with the fairness and liberality which his government wished to show to the red men, after a long talk, in which the colonel exacted promises of good behavior, he let the prisoners go. They departed, to forget as quickly as possible all their vows and promises; for, seemingly, they will act in no other way than as their own savage instinct teaches. After this affair, Col. Beall made a direct march for Taos, where he remained for some time, attending to the ordinary duties of his garrison.
In the treaty between the United States and New Mexico, entered into at the close of the Mexican War, a clause was inserted binding the former to turn over to the latter all the Mexican captives then held by the Indians who inhabited territory belonging to the first named government. The carrying out of this provision of the treaty involved the United States government in a large and constant bill of expense. This was, undoubtedly, unavoidable, for even had the clause not been inserted in the treaty, the maintenance of about the same frontier military forces would have been necessary. It would have proved a difficult matter to carry out this treaty to the letter.
If it had been so carried out to the letter, the Camanches would have been great sufferers, for at least one third of the blood that now runs in their veins is Mexican. During the last half century, and perhaps longer, they have been accustomed to make annual visits into the Mexican settlements of Old Mexico. The object of these hostile incursions has ever been to load themselves with plunder. They steal all the horses that fall in their way, and also take for captives as many young children as they can lay hands on. The latter are brought up in true Indian style, and, having cast off all remembrance of their former habits and friends, they gradually become the wild men of the plains. The female captives, on arriving at the suitable age, are married to the young warriors of the tribe, and thus the true Indian stock, becoming amalgamated with the Mexico-Spanish blood, is fast becoming degenerated. The reason, therefore, why the fulfillment of this treaty would have militated strongly against the Camanche Indians especially, is clearly apparent.
In the following February, Col. Beall learned that on the Arkansas River there were congregated a large body of Indians, who had quite a number of Mexicans in bondage. He felt it to be his duty to visit these savages and endeavor to have them deliver up all such captives, using peaceable means to accomplish this result in the first instance; and, should they fail, he made up his mind to resort to more forcible and potent arguments. With this determination, and with two companies of dragoons to back him and Kit Carson as his guide, he set out on his mission. In due time he reached the Arkansas, and there found congregated four tribes of Indians who numbered in the vicinity of two thousand souls. Their object in thus coming together was to have a grand council and lay out plans for the future, and also to meet their agent. This agent, who was an experienced mountaineer, informed the colonel that, considering the present state of ill feeling existing among these Indians towards the whites, it would be useless to make the demand for the prisoners; and as to using force, it would almost certainly prove a failure, when such a large number of well armed warriors were arrayed against him. It required a great deal of persuasion to bring the colonel around to this mode of thinking; but, at last he yielded to the advice of his friends and concluded to make no demonstration against the Indians at the present time, concluding, as his anger cooled, that it was the wisest policy to await a more favorable opportunity, when a treaty could be made with them, in which there could be an article inserted that would stipulate for the restoration of the captives.
In parting with these red men without accomplishing the main object for which they came, both officers and men felt that their labors had not been entirely thrown away. Their presence must have left lasting impressions on the minds of the savages, in showing them that they no longer had poorly clad and poorly armed Mexican soldiers to deal with.
On arriving again in Taos, Kit Carson returned to his home to ruminate over what was best for him to take up as a business for the future. He revolved in his thoughts his past career, and, in the end, finished the mental study by resolving to give up his roaming life, as he rightly considered that now was the time, if ever, that he should be making a substantial home for himself and family, before old age crept upon and disabled him from the undertaking. About the time that he was in this frame of mind, his old mountaineer friend, Maxwell, was about going to a pretty little valley called by the Mexicans Rayado. Maxwell proposed to Kit Carson to join him in the enterprise of building a ranche on the site which he had selected. This offer the latter gladly accepted. Rayado would have, long before, been settled by the Mexicans, had they not been deterred by its exposure, and consequent inviting position for Indian depredations. The valley is about fifty miles east from Taos; and, for its scenery, cannot be surpassed by anything of the kind in America. Standing at the head of it on a blunt bluff, you look down and out on the prairies, and nothing can be more enchanting than the view that is thus presented. On each side there are lofty hills, which, when green with grass and foliage, add a magic beauty to the scene. Through the valley, as if it had been intended for its dividing line, runs a broad mountain stream, the banks of which are now metamorphosed into beautiful fields.
We stop here to undeceive the reading public concerning an idea which has gained currency by the extraordinary imaginative writings of novelists. These trashy fictions represent the western plains, or prairies, as flower-beds. In this a great mistake has become prevalent. A traveler often pursues his way over them for many days without seeing anything to interrupt the continuity of green grass except it be the beautiful road over which he is journeying. Near the slopes of the mountains and on the river banks the remark will apply. There, fields of wild flowers are often found growing in great luxuriance.
The settlement was soon after commenced by Kit Carson and Maxwell, and, as now completed, is really a beautiful spot. It is located about midway down the valley. Among its several houses, there are two which are more conspicuous than the rest. In the finest of these two, the owner of which has taken great pains and spent much valuable time with its construction, lives Maxwell, whose honest pride is the being master of a model farm. In the residence next most to be admired in Rayado, Kit Carson sometimes sojourns.